


Bad Guys and Super Heroes

by SweetestHoney



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oneshot, Smut, Wall Sex, a teensy tiny bit of non-con play although it's really only a tiny bit I promise, and they play 'bad guys and superheros' except of course, gotta switch it up, spiderio, these morons just wanted a happy date and I had to go and fucc it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Peter and Quentin have a romantic date night planned - dinner reservations for two, the whole nine yards. Quentin changes their plans at the last minute. Written for ValentineRunaway for the Apr 2020 Spiderio 18+ exchange :)
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55
Collections: Spiderio 18+ Exchange April 2020





	Bad Guys and Super Heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ValentineRunaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRunaway/gifts).



> Whoops I did promise this would be posted at the very last possible second, so I'm sorry for the delay Valentine! I've been dealing with a bit of writers' block, but I hope it turned out okay :) 
> 
> Prompt was: romance, nsfw (if possible)

“Baby boy, baby boy, you stay on my mind, fulfill my fantasies,” Peter sang along to his phone absently as he bent over, checking the consistency of his cookies through the grimy glass of the oven window. 

When two hands landed on his hips, pulling so he was flush against someone else’s crotch, Peter jumped, straightening and nearly elbowing the other person in the face. The hands quickly left his skin as the man jumped back, ducking to avoid Peter’s flailing arms. 

“Ah!” Peter, when asked about it later, would insist that he didn’t scream. He moved quickly, spinning so he could see the person behind him. “Quentin!” The man behind him didn’t make eye contact, rubbing at his elbow where he’d smacked it against the fridge as he tried to avoid Peter’s hands. “Shit, I’m sorry, I - I wasn’t expecting you to, uh, wait, I was alone and you weren’t supposed to be here for another twenty minutes.” 

Peter’s eyes flicked to the clock over the oven and he frowned. When he looked back to Quentin, however, the man was giving him that grin that meant he was going to do something  _ dirty _ to Peter. Peter gulped, trying to figure out just what kind of a night he was in for. The last time Quentin smiled at him like that he’d ended up half naked in the back of a club sucking every dick he was offered. Not that he’d minded, he’d been half out of his mind on pleasure at the time actually, but that grin always spelled trouble. 

Quentin’s voice brought Peter back from the memories he’d gotten lost in. “Oh, I just thought, well, I was ready early and I didn’t feel like waiting any more to see your pretty face.” He gave Peter a heady once-over and Peter giggled, flushing a little. Getting any of Quentin’s full mind-melting attention was a  _ feeling _ , and it never ceased to be one of Peter’s favorites. 

Peter shook his head to dislodge some of the fuzz, blinking. “I uh, well, I’m not ready yet, so you might have to wait. And we’ve got reservations, so it’s not like we can leave that early.” Quentin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Peter’s lightly, making Peter’s breath flutter. 

“Yeah, we might not make those reservations.” Quentin pulled away only for a moment as he breathed the words, pressing his lips back to Peter’s before Peter could form the questions he had. 

Peter moaned, his hands coming up to wind their way into Quentin’s hair, tugging at it. When Quentin’s mouth finally relinquished his, moving to press a series of kisses down Peter’s neck, Peter was panting, half supporting himself via his grip on Quentin’s shoulders since his knees were wobbly. 

“What - what’s gotten into you?” Peter’s question was gasped as he felt Quentin’s hands, talented fingers efficiently undoing the apron strings at the small of his back and brushing temptingly over Peter’s skin every once in a while. 

“Nothing. I just felt like showing you how much I love your body.” Peter felt himself flushing again, squirming in Quentin’s grip as he registered the compliment. The older man insisted on complimenting him often, and usually it made Peter feel like he was joking, except Peter knew Quentin would never do that. But the things Quentin said sometimes - Peter knew he meant them, but it was still hard to see how sometimes, when he saw his own body next to Quentin’s. 

“I, well, thanks Quentin, I appreciate it. Are - if we, we’re going to be late, if we don’t–” Quentin’s hands finally finished untying the knot at the back of Peter’s apron and moved instead to cup Peter’s ass, kneading him and tugging him closer into Quentin’s grip. “Ah, okay, yeah we don’t have to - maybe we can take a rain check.” Peter’s voice cracked when Quentin’s teeth clamped down on the skin under his ear, and he gasped, his hands coming up to tug at Quentin’s hair again. 

Quentin released Peter's neck once he was sure there'd be a dark mark and leaned back, observing his handiwork. The skin was already bruising up nicely and he grinned, leaning back in to press a gentle kiss to the spot. 

Before Peter could offer any additional comments about the mark, a timer went off behind them and Peter whipped around, hands reaching to turn it off even as he moved. 

"My cookies!" One hand reached back to thwack Quentin's hip as Peter shooed him out of the way, moving back so he could open the oven door. Quentin moved obligingly but kept his hands on Peter, tracing his sides. "Quentin, I'm all for touching but I'd like to take these out without burning them or myself. If you keep touching me I don't know if that's possible." 

Quentin sighed but took his hands off Peter, letting him safely remove the cookies from the oven. Once the chocolate was safe and cooling on the stovetop, Peter slipped the oven mitts off and turned back to Quentin. 

"Thanks. I'm sorry if I snapped at you." Quentin gave him a disarming smile and Peter felt himself smiling back. "I was just worried since it's been a while since I baked anything and I wanted them to come out good." He turned back to the cookies, poking them with the spatula to ensure they all separated from each other cleanly. 

"I was going to ask about that before I got, hmm, distracted." Quentin's voice was lower and Peter shivered, not expecting Quentin to have moved behind him again. Hands came up and pressed his hips against the still warm oven, shifting Quentin's erection against his ass. "Baking? We did have dinner plans, Peter." Peter squirmed in Quentin's grip, not trying to get out of it, just testing the hold. 

"I know we have plans, I just wanted to have something sweet for after. You know, dessert." Quentin chuckled in Peter's ear and Peter shivered, pushing back against Quentin's body and desperate for friction. 

"You mean you wanted a reason to invite me back up here? Maybe get me back to your apartment so you could have your way with me?" His fingers walked around Peter's hips, brushing his shirt out of the way as he slowly moved to unbutton Peter's jeans. "That's a little underhanded, wouldn't you say, Peter?" 

Peter whined, frustrated by the fact that Quentin was paying his dick no attention, still just brushing his hands across Peter's stomach as he played with the fastenings to his pants. "Quentin, fuck, yeah I was hoping to have a reason to invite you up." He blew out a breath. "It's totally normal though, I wasn't trying to - to trick you into it." He took a deep breath, gathering himself. 

"Hmm, I don't know." Quentin's voice was still teasing and Peter played along, waiting to see where this went. "What if you're trying to trap me here? Keep me your willing sex toy?" Peter gasped, the images in his head off the exact opposite - Quentin keeping him tied up in bed, ready and waiting for Quentin to fuck him. 

"I - I'm not, I wasn't–" Quentin's hand moved from Peter's hip, a gentle brush of his fingers across Peter's neck, just a hint of what he was capable of. Peter nearly melted on the spot, letting his head fall back a bit so Quentin would have easier access to do what he wanted. 

"Well, you say you weren't, but I don't know that I should believe you. In fact, I think I need to pat you down, make sure you don't have anything dangerous on you.” His hand, the one not on Peter’s neck, started running up and down Peter’s torso, ostensibly feeling for weapons. It mostly served to torture Peter, light touches that were just shy of professional. 

“I’m not - Quentin, come on, you’re - I need more, please–” Peter’s voice was breathy and he whined when Quentin pressed lightly against his dick through his jeans, nowhere near enough friction. 

"Oh, hmm, this is definitely a potential weapon. I'll have to check it." Quentin smirked, Peter felt it against his neck, and he whined again, this time thrusting impatiently back against Quentin. 

The older man made quick work of Peter's jeans, tugging them down and exposing him to the open air. Peter whimpered, trying to brace his hands on the stove to keep from touching himself. He knew from experience that Quentin wouldn't be happy with him if he took matters into his own hands. Quentin noted his frustration and pressed a kiss against his neck. 

"You're being really good Peter, let's get you something to hold onto, yeah?" Peter nodded, grateful that Quentin noticed his discomfort. He let Quentin tug him into their bedroom, manhandling Peter until he was pushed face first against one wall, hands up like he was being arrested. They'd installed a number of things in their bedroom to make the fact that Peter was super strong easier to deal with, and mounted into the wall above Peter's head was a metal brace that he knew from testing he could tug on with his whole body weight and not bend. 

Quentin didn't tell Peter to grab onto it yet, instead pushing so he leaned with his hands against the wall, his back towards Quentin. Quentin kicked his feet apart, making Peter spread them wider. Peter did, feeling a shiver go up his spine at the helplessness of the position. 

“Now I’m going to have to strip search you, make sure you’re not hiding anything suspicious.” Quentin’s voice was firm, like he  _ expected _ the orders to be followed, and Peter couldn’t help but gasp a little at the tone. He shivered, clenching and unclenching his thigh muscles in an attempt to appear unrattled. 

“W-Why? I haven’t done anything, sir, please.” Peter wasn’t sure how into this idea Quentin expected him to be, but he found himself  _ very _ turned on at the idea of Quentin being a little rough with the strip-search. He heard the other man move behind him and resisted the urge to take his hands off the wall and turn around. 

Quentin took a solid handful of Peter’s hair and pulled his head back roughly, causing Peter to moan softly. “Hey, Peter?” Peter’s eyes opened and he found the other man’s, Quentin’s expression free of the fake annoyance he’d had. “Your safewords?” 

Peter nodded, expecting the question. “Red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for go. It’s green at the moment.” He confirmed the words they’d set up previously for situations just like this, and Quentin gave him a perfunctory nod, happy with the response. 

The hand tightened in Peter’s hair and he winced, eyes focusing in front of him out of instinct. When he looked back to Quentin, the man’s expression had changed back to a mix of feigned disgust and annoyance, but Peter could see through that easily, cataloguing the man’s blown pupils and shortness of breath. 

“Well in that case, I’m going to let you know how this is going to go. You are under suspicion of being a supervillain, Mr. Parker, and that is a very serious crime. I’m going to search you, to make sure there’s nothing dangerous on your person, and then I get to interrogate you, to make sure there’s nothing you haven’t told me about your recent activity.” The hand in Peter’s hair tugged again and he bit his lip to keep from whimpering. “And Mr. Parker?” 

Peter turned his head to look Quentin in the eyes again, his eyebrows drawing up in confusion. 

“You’re going to want to  _ cooperate _ with me to the best of your abilities. We wouldn’t want any….little mistakes happening when I bring you in, do we?” Peter shook his head no. 

“No sir, of course, sir.” Quentin let go of his hair and stepped back, and Peter let his head drop forward slightly, panting. He’d never considered playing the bad guy to Quentin’s good, but he had to admit that the idea had potential. It also had him hard as a fucking rock, and when he felt Quentin’s hands at the back of his shirt, he couldn’t help the sigh he let out as the man’s fingers brushed against his skin. 

When Peter realized what Quentin was doing, he almost protested. The man was quick, however, and he’d cut Peter’s shirt down the back and at the shoulders before Peter had a moment to protest. Peter rolled his eyes at the man’s dedication to annoying Peter, but decided his jeans weren’t worth the protest, and if Quentin was going to cut Peter’s clothes off he’d just make the man buy him more later. It wasn’t like Quentin wasn’t filthy stinking rich from all of his thievery. Peter would feel worse about not stopping him, but since he’d steered Quentin into only stealing from people that really deserved it, he’d mostly stopped giving a shit about the other man’s questionable morality. 

Quentin tugged the shirt free and started on Peter’s pants, leaving his boxers on but neatly following the seams down each hip towards the ankle. When the jeans were tugged off as well, Peter huffed, shivering a little in the cool room. “Sir, I’m - it’s cold.” 

Peter wasn’t listening to Quentin’s movements, and he jumped a little when the man’s voice came from right behind him. “Well, you should have considered that before you broke the law.” He wasn’t overly loud, but the no-nonsense tone had Peter gulping, not sure what to expect next from the man. Quentin hadn’t touched his erection since they were in the kitchen, and he was about ready to get  _ some _ kind of friction on it, even though it would likely only Quentin taunting him without much substance. 

“I - I know, sir, but - well, if you’re a big strong superhero, aren’t you supposed to treat your prisoners better than this? You’re supposed to be the better one.” It was a rant Peter had heard many times (usually when Quentin had been drinking), and he employed it now in hopes that Quentin would laugh instead of being annoyed. 

He was rewarded with a chuckle and he heard Quentin walk over to the thermostat and adjust it, probably turning it up a few degrees. “Alright, it should get warmer soon, but I don’t want any morte lip out of you, got it?” Peter nodded, not looking back at the other man as he returned to Peter. 

“Yes sir, of course sir.” Peter knew he was going a little overboard with the ‘sir’s, but he was going to needle back at Quentin for the clothes with everything he could think of. 

Quentin started ‘checking Peter for weapons’ then, placing both hands on one of Peter’s wrists where it was still pressed against the wall. He felt up Peter’s wrist slowly, touching every inch of skin and making sure there was absolutely nothing other than arm there. Peter felt himself growing hot as the man touched him, the gentle and non-sexual touches driving him crazy as they catalogued his skin in pieces. 

Quentin worked up one arm, and stopped at the shoulder, poking Peter’s armpit for a moment, and then moved to Peter’s other arm. He started at the wrist again and worked up to the shoulder before moving to stand behind Peter, out of sight once again. Peter shivered a little as he thought about where Quentin would touch him next. 

The next touch was actually on his head, as Quentin’s hands carded through Peter’s hair, nails scratching over his scalp in systematic lines. Peter groaned under the ministrations, his eyes lidded as he let his head fall back with pleasure. He’d always loved when Quentin played with his hair, and Quentin knew it. 

Finishing up with Peter’s hair, Quentin ran skilled fingers down Peter’s neck, and then stepped closer so he was pressed bodily against Peter’s back. His erection dug into Peter’s ass and Peter whined, rubbing back against Quentin in hopes of getting friction. Quentin’s hands came up under Peter’s arms, wrapping around him and feeling along his collarbones, then methodically touching down his chest, pinching once at each nipple and causing Peter’s hips to jerk forward. When he then continued down Peter’s chest instead of stopping to play with his nipples longer, Peter moaned again, grinding back against Quentin’s erection. 

“Ah, Quentin, please,” Peter’s wasn’t sure what he was asking Quentin for, but whatever it was the man didn’t grant it. Quentin’s hands didn’t move from their place as he worked down Peter’s chest, even as he growled a warning in Peter’s ear. 

“Quiet, kid, or else I’ll have to show you what happens when you misbehave.” Peter whimpered again but didn’t respond. He wanted to be good for Quentin. 

Quentin stepped back once he’d finished with Peter’s chest, and when Peter was finally sure that he’d get something, either his dick or his ass, he felt Quentin’s hands on his ankle, gently working his way up to the knee. Peter bit his lip to keep from screaming with frustration. Quentin  _ loved _ teasing, and Peter should have known that he’d take this opportunity to do so. 

Finally,  _ finally, _ Quentin finished with Peter’s legs, working his way up one and then the other and stopping right below Peter’s ass, where he really wanted to be touched. Peter sucked in a deep breath as he felt Quentin stepping to press against him once more, grinding against Peter’s ass. One hand came up to Peter’s hips, pulling him back more firmly against Quentin’s erection. 

Quentin pushed the fingertips of his other hand into the waistband of Peter’s boxers and gently felt around the elastic of the waistband, like he was making sure Peter didn’t have anything tucked into the elastic. Halfway, he got to Peter’s dick, which was so hard it pushed the waistband of his boxers away from his stomach, the head peeking out obscenely. Quentin’s fingers brushed over the tip and Peter groaned, his head falling as he pushed his hips forward, trying to get Quentin to touch him more. 

When Quentin wrapped that hand around Peter’s length, Peter nearly cried, bucking wildly into the loose grip. Quentin snarled into his ear, gripping Peter's hips tightly to keep him from moving. 

"Now this here," he gave Peter a rough squeeze and Peter inhaled sharply, "could be considered a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. And you, mister Parker, could very well be considered the  _ wrong hands _ ." Peter whimpered, trying to get Quentin to touch him more. "I'm going to have to perform a cavity search, just to be sure you're not holding out on me." 

Peter shook his head even as he was pushing back against Quentin's touch. "I'm - I'm a good kid, come on, I'm not hiding anything." He paused, trying to find the right words. Quentin didn't give him the chance, however, letting go of Peter's dick (causing the boy to keen, hips making small movements in the empty air) and pulled away from Peter's body, dropping to his knees behind Peter. 

"I know you're a good kid, Peter, that's why I'm doing this." Deft hands tugged Peter's boxers down, exposing him fully. "I need you to know that being a bad guy isn't all it's cracked up to be. It might seem like a lot of glitz and glamour, but the reality is a lot more hours spent slaving away on code than anyone would like to admit." Peter snorted at that, remembering long nights spent as a stand in for Quentin's rubber duck, especially since he actually did understand coding. 

Quentin continued talking, ignoring Peter's break in character. "Trust me Peter, I can save you." His words were followed by the soft 'snick' of what was probably the lube. Peter shivered, all too ready to feel the other man's fingers inside him. "Listen, if you play your cards right, you might get off scot free for this." 

"But I'm telling you, I didn't do it! I shouldn't even be arrested right now because _ I didn't _ \- mmph–" Peter's words cut off with a choked grunt as Quentin pushed his index finger all the way into Peter in one smooth movement, Peter's hips canting forwards instinctively. Quentin hummed, like he was contemplating the best place to go for dinner instead of fingering someone. 

"Hmm, well, I'm not finding anything hidden here, but I can tell just from this that you're much looser than one would expect." Peter opened his mouth to be offended but the only thing that came out was another groan as Quentin crooked his finger inside Peter, hitting his prostate with unerring accuracy. "I have heard of people occasionally selling themselves to various criminal enterprises in exchange for safety; you wouldn’t ever do that, would you, Peter?” Peter shook his head, pushing back against Quentin’s fingers and trying to get more. Quentin added a second, stretching Peter under the guise of searching him. 

“N-No, I haven’t d-done that.” Peter’s voice was breathy and his knees shook as he tried to stay standing. 

“Well I don’t know that I believe you, kid, you’re awfully loose.” Quentin pulled his fingers out of Peter, causing him to whimper at the loss. “I need to check that you haven’t hidden anything deeper inside of you, since I have a reasonable suspicion that you may be working for criminals.” He stood and moved behind Peter again. Peter felt Quentin’s dick rubbing against his ass, catching the head on his rim. Quentin didn’t push in yet, instead just rubbing against Peter for long moments. 

Peter whimpered again, pushing back against Quentin and trying to get him to move. When Quentin didn’t, Peter huffed. “P-Please, can you - please,” Quentin knew what he was asking for, and leaned forward to nuzzle Peter’s neck, biting softly at the skin. 

When Quentin finally entered him, he didn’t thrust right to the hilt, instead sliding home with a slow, smooth thrust that had Peter gasping out at the fullness of it. The fingering had been somewhat cursory and probably not as much as Peter could have used, but the pain and stretch felt good as he pressed back against Quentin, trying to get more. Finally bottoming out, Quentin paused, letting Peter adjust. The position meant he had a good angle and was deep inside Peter, his hips flush with the smaller boy’s. 

“Hey, Peter?” Peter murmured at the questioning tone, his head raising drowsily as he waited for Quentin to continue. “We can keep going like this, or we can switch positions.” He was rocking into Peter as he spoke, unable to keep completely still. Peter nodded, eager to let Quentin maneuver him however he wished. Quentin wasted no time in pulling out (Peter only whined a little, no matter what Quentin would say later) and flipping Peter around so they faced each other, and grabbing hold of his hips. “Jump up, grab the bar.” 

Peter did as instructed, grabbing the metal bar sunk into the wall above his head. He used his strength to hold himself up while Quentin pulled Peter’s legs and wrapped them around his waist. He tugged Peter down slowly so he supported some of Peter’s weight, pushing him against the wall and holding him there. Peter kept hold of the bar, and Quentin eased him down until Peter was fully seated on his cock, gasping and wriggling as he tried to get Quentin to move. 

“Please, I need - I need  _ more _ -–” Quentin captured Peter’s lips with a kiss, plundering his mouth and gripping his hips so tightly that Peter would probably have bruises if not for his super-healing. As they kissed, Quentin rocked his hips into Peter, testing the angle. When Peter groaned, breaking the kiss to lean his head against Quentin’s shoulder, Quentin started moving more, small movements with his hips as he used his grip on Peter to ease the boy up and off a few inches before letting him drop back down. 

The feeling when he dropped back down onto Quentin, most of his body weight forcing him deeper than it felt Quentin had ever been before, the breath was knocked out of Peter and he gasped, trying to get enough air into his lungs. He didn’t have much luck, however, because Quentin decided at that moment to finally  _ move _ , setting a brutal pace as he fucked up and into Peter, holding him tightly against the wall. 

It was all Peter could do to hold on, hands gripping the bar and legs clutching tightly around Quentin’s chest as he tried to urge the other man deeper still. 

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Peter was babbling nonsense, his hands tightening around the bar tightly enough that he spared a thought to it’s structural integrity. Quentin’s hands on his ass were kneading slowly even as he drove into Peter, holding Peter open for his use. 

Every time Quentin thrust in, the head of his cock dragged deliciously over Peter’s prostate, making him gasp and groan with each movement. Peter’s dick bounced neglected against his stomach, both of their hands engaged in the task at hand. 

Quentin’s face was pressed against Peter’s neck, his breath hot and warm on Peter’s skin. He moved up from Peter’s neck, nosing behind his ear and growling as his arms protested holding Peter’s weight for so long. Peter shivered at the possessive sound. 

“Yeah?” Quentin wasn’t often vocal in bed (or, well, wall, as the case may be) but when he was, it usually drove Peter mad. “God, you’re so fucking - fuck, Peter, you’re beautiful, look at you taking all of me like that.” He slowed down, fucking long and  _ deep _ into Peter and reaching places Peter didn’t know were there. “You’re such a good boy, Peter, I’m so proud of you, you’re doing really well.” Quentin moved from his neck to kiss him, completely lacking finesse and instead just dominating, forcing Peter to submit to him. 

“Q-Quentin, please - please,” Peter sobbed, breaking the kiss and trying frantically to encourage Quentin faster, needing  _ more,  _ needing  _ release _ . 

“Don’t worry babe, I’ll take care of you.” And Peter believed him, that he’d take care of Peter. Peter’s hands dropped from the bar, letting the last of his weight push him further onto Quentin’s dick, the man now fully holding him up. He wrapped his arms around Quentin’s neck, sucking in as deep a breath as he could. Quentin grunted and paused for a moment, holding Peter against the wall, impossibly deep. The moment seemed to lengthen without moving at all, and Peter felt his blood pounding in his ears. 

Then Quentin was moving again, pounding into Peter and sinking his teeth into Peter’s neck and worrying the skin there. The sudden motion and spark of pain were enough to finally send Peter over the edge, cock untouched, and he cried out as he spilled between them. 

Peter’s orgasm set off Quentin, who followed him off the cliff after another few thrusts. They’d mostly stopped using condoms so Peter felt as Quentin came, a burst of warmth inside of him that had him moaning weakly against Quentin’s shoulder, his dick giving a valiant twitch in response. 

Both of them were breathing heavily, and Peter used his grip on Quentin’s shoulders to steady himself before reaching up and pulling off of Quentin and dropping to his feet in front of him. His legs were wobbly, and he laughed, swaying into Quentin and throwing his arms out to catch himself on the other man. 

“Woah!” Quentin steadied him, one hand coming to rest at the small of Peter’s back, the other under the curve of his ass. Peter grinned up and stood on his toes to press his lips to Quentin’s, throwing his arms around the other man instead of relinquishing his hold. Quentin laughed, holding Peter close to him and letting him go after a few moments. 

Peter grinned at him, his legs working a little better at holding himself up. “Hi, Quentin.” Quentin’s eyes crinkled at the edges and he reached for Peter’s face, thumbing over his cheek. 

“Hi, Peter. I think we might have missed our dinner reservations.” Peter’s eyes brightened at that and Quentin raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Oh! But we have cookies!” Peter bounced up and down on the balls of his feet and then made a face as the motion reminded him that he’d be cleaning himself up before getting any of the cookies. Quentin just grinned and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek and smacked his ass. 

“We do have cookies, and you should go wash up before dessert. Or is it dinner?” He walked more slowly behind Peter as Peter wandered into the bathroom, scrubbing his hands through his hair and shaking his arms out. 

Once Peter and Quentin were both wiped down with a wet cloth, Quentin let himself be tugged back to the kitchen for cookies, still completely naked. When he suggested they see if the restaurant had a delivery option, Peter kissed him and declared the night a backwards-date success. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ack I hope it passes muster, I never feel like I do a great job at these and I don't wanna let anyone down.


End file.
